he calls me mommy, but his heart isn't much in it yet. it's early still, so though he bustles and romps his way happy through the day, we get the sense that he'd be just as fine with anyone sweet on him.
we're venturing out more, bit by bit, enlarging our sphere to include church and the library. he sticks by me okay, but when i'm a whole bunch of no fun, vetoing scribbles on his palms and shorts or the unplugging of computers, he peels away and scrunches silly faces at other mums and dads, seeking attention from anyone less liable to say no.
sometimes the distance drags heavy and i want to fast-forward to the part where he'd pick us out of a crowd, where he'd feel clear to his spine how we love him.
but then i'd miss this, the slow, scraping, grace-washed crawl toward being a family.
during eight o'clock tuck-ins, he'll echo back goodnight with his smile curving the word like a slip of moon. and it's not everything, i know. it's maybe the thinnest wisp of a beginning. but still it puddles slow and sweet, honey to this mama's soul.